


Sweet Life

by ughsterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I don't subscribe to the belief that Derek is heaps taller than Stiles, Idiots in Love, M/M, Masturbation, No Werewolves, Pining, mentions of previous self harm, well a little bit anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1456924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ughsterek/pseuds/ughsterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles spend the Summer together at Derek's family's beach house. That's pretty much it? I'm sorry, I'm terrible at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why see the World When You’ve got the Beach?

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titles all from Frank Ocean’s song, ‘Sweet Life’, because I love it and it’s constantly stuck in my head.
> 
> There is a brief mention of previous self harm and depression in this, but no actual self harm takes place in this. What is there about it is written from my own experiences, and I'm fairly easily triggered, but this is okay for me. If you are easily triggered, please take this into account before reading!! 
> 
> Feel free to send me prompts or come say hi on my tumblr princess-dork.

“Ugh it’s hotter than Satan’s balls today, I’m like 90% sure I'm melting.” Stiles whines from where he’s sprawled out face down on the kitchen tiles.

Derek looks down at him from the edge of the kitchen. “Stiles I’m not even going to ask why, just get up.” And doesn’t that say a lot about his life that seeing Stiles like this doesn’t surprise him in the slightest.

Stiles rolls over about as gracefully as a lazy pancake being flipped, and looks up at Derek with tired brown eyes, “Der _-rek_ it’s too hot. I can’t do anything ever again,” he moans.

“Oh, okay then,” Derek leans against the fridge – the nice, cool fridge, and _damn_ why didn’t Stiles think of that – and raises an eyebrow at Stiles. “I guess that means you're too tired and hot to go to the beach for the next 2 weeks then.” He smirks at the speed with which Stiles stands.

“You better not be fucking with me about this, Derek. It is just _cruel_ to play with a man’s emotions at a time like this.”

“Oh, I didn’t think you were interested,” Derek teases.

“Derek, I swear to god, if you don’t tell me about the beach in the next two seconds I am going to post that video of you sleepwalking on the internet faster than you can say,” he bats his eyes and puts on the most ridiculous southern belle accent, “ _Oh Stiles, king of all things manly and heroic-”_ Derek slams his hand over Stiles mouth.

“Stiles would you shut up so I can tell you?” He waits for a nod before removing his hand from the other man’s mouth. “Okay, well I spoke to Grandma Hale the other day, and since Granddad and Uncle Peter have gone up North for a hunting trip, she’s kind of lonely. She said she’d be more than happy to have me – and a friend – come stay at the beach house for the next couple of weeks! So, you in?” Derek has barely a second before Stiles is jumping up and down on the spot like a kid in Disneyland.

“Are you _kidding?! ‘Am I in_?’” He scoffs, “Of course I'm fucking in! This is going to be the best summer ever!” He throws his arms around Derek, still jumping, before stilling and pulling back with a sour look on his face. “Dude no offense, but you stink.” At Derek’s questioning eyebrows he quickly adds, “but not that that matters because you're the best friend ever and you're taking me to the beach and did I mention how great this is going to be? Because it will be. Great, that is.”

Derek pushes Stiles away with a roll of his eyes, before grabbing a beer from the fridge and heading to the living room, calling over his shoulder, “don’t make me take back the invitation.”

The last thing he sees before settling in to watch the game is Stiles standing in the middle of the kitchen, mouth gaping like a fish.

~

“Okay, how have we been roommates for 3 years and you’ve _never_ brought me here before?” Stiles practically drools, staring at the seriously most beautiful beach house he has ever laid eyes on, from where he’s leaned against Derek’s Camaro. And when Stiles says beach house, he doesn’t mean ‘a house close to the beach’ oh no, this house’s back yard _is the fucking beach._ “Derek I need a moment, I think I'm going to cry.”

“Okay, whatever, I'm going inside though.” Derek grabs his bag from the trunk of the car before walking up the sandy driveway to the house.

“Oh _shit_ yes, wait up, asshole.”

Derek turns and stares at Stiles as he jogs up to join him, “okay, I'm only going to remind you once that we are at my _Grandmother’s house._ Please, for the love of god, _try_ and tone down the swearing?”

Stiles looks up with excited eyes, “yeah, of course I will. Come on, man, you know I will! Besides, Grandma Hale loves me!” He laughs and claps Derek on the shoulder, before skipping up the steps to the front door.

“Derek! Oh and Stiles, dear! Come in, come in!” Grandma coos from the doorway before ushering them inside and giving them each a big kiss on the cheek.

After leading them into the kitchen for a glass of water, Grandma retires to her bedroom for an afternoon nap. Derek leads Stiles upstairs, pointing out the bathroom – “Derek there’s a freaking _spa bath_ in there! And a shower! This is insane…” – and the two guest bedrooms after it.

“Are you shitting me? A whole _room_ to myself?! When I used to visit my Aunt Laurie’s beach house I had to share bunk beds with my two cousins!” Stiles walks around the room, eyes like a deer in headlights. “Oh my _god_ , Der _,_ the view from the balcony is literally insane,” Stiles calls from the small balcony off his room, “I have gone insane, this isn’t happening.”

Stiles turns around to see Derek standing by the foot of the bed with a soft, fond look on his face. He quickly schools his expression and raises his eyebrows patronisingly, “Stiles, you went insane a long, long time ago.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “yeah yeah, whatever, asshole.” Derek smirks and goes to leave, Stiles calling out to him, “you know you love me!”

Derek rolls his eyes and begins unpacking his bag, he fishes out his board shorts and strips off his white tee. “Hey Stiles, I'm gonna head down to the water, you wanna come with?” He pulls off his cargo shorts and briefs, and hears a quick gasp from behind him as he grabs his board shorts.

He turns around, barely covering his junk with the shorts to see Stiles in the doorway, face bright pink. “Oh man, I'm uh, sorry, just came to tell you I had the uh, the same idea...” he trails off as he gestures to himself, wearing nothing but his orange and blue trunks, with a towel slung across his shoulder. “Obviously not the _exact_ same idea though, because I'm wearing clothes, and you're… not.” His wide eyes flicker down Derek’s chest to his crotch before flicking back to his face, “So I'm just gonna-” he points in the general direction of anywhere that is _not freaking naked Derek Hale_ and spins around and hightails it out of there.

Okay so Stiles may have just walked in on Derek getting changed, and he may have seen the outline of his dick, but that’s cool, right? Dudes see other dudes’ dicks all the time, right? Right. Everything’s fine and 100% cool with Stiles. Cool as a freaking cucumber.

The second he reaches the sand, Stiles dumps his towel and heads for the water, immediately diving under a small wave and willing his skin to return to its natural, not so red hue.

~

A couple of hours later, when the sun is just starting to edge beyond the horizon and the sky has become a bright pink, Derek stretches out on one of the beach chairs and stares up at the stars just beginning to twinkle awake. The heat has let off a little now, and the soft breeze that’s blowing through is cool enough to make sitting outside comfortable.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the sounds he can here coming from behind him in the house. Over the sound of the crashing waves, he can just make out Stiles’ blithe laughter as he sings old Sinatra songs with Grandma in the kitchen. He smiles softly to himself, and as cliché as it is, he really could listen to Stiles laugh all day. To see the way his whole face lights up with pure joy, and how his laughter seems to radiate throughout his entire being, until it’s caught up with Derek, too.

He’s still smiling softly to himself when Stiles comes out and flops gracelessly into the chair beside him and sighs heartily. “I could get used to this.” He lolls his head to the side to look at Derek, and gives him a soft smile that lights up his face, even in the fading light of the evening.

He leans over, and for a split second Derek thinks Stiles might kiss him, but instead he passes him a cold beer and lays back down with his own in hand.

He smiles, trying for the love of god to get his heartbeat back under control and closes his eyes, (barely) resisting the urge to just lean out and touch Stiles.


	2. Starshine Always Kept You Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a mention of previous self harm, please consider this if you are easily triggered.

Stiles isn’t sure exactly when he began to like Derek. Well, that’s not exactly true; he can remember when he stopped _despising_ the quiet, sulky man and started genuinely enjoying his company. But somewhere along the way, the edges of what he meant to Stiles became slightly blurred. Okay, a lot blurred. Like, Robin Thicke blurred. Things have mostly been the same anyway – Stiles still finds his little ears and bunny teeth hilarious, but now they’re also pretty damn cute. And he stopped trying to convince himself he didn’t find Derek attractive a _long_ time ago.

Like, a blind man would still find Derek hot. Seriously, how is his jawline even real?

Stiles sighs and shifts on his bed so that he’s laying on his back, snaking a hand down his bare chest to cup himself through his boxers. Okay, so how morally wrong is it to jerk off to thoughts of your best friend in his family’s beach house when he’s in the next room down? _Fuck it; I'm already going to hell,_ Stiles thinks, sitting up to grab some lotion from his bag by the foot of his bed – and yes, he knows himself well enough to know that two weeks with a half naked Derek Hale would lead to a lot of jerking off, and had packed accordingly. When he lays back down he strips out of his boxers completely, throwing them somewhere to his left, before slicking up his hardening cock.

He draws up one of his more embarrassingly domestic fantasies; where he and Derek are on the couch watching one of their regular Friday night movies, and starts to jerk himself off. Stiles likes to imagine everything leading up to the sex; the soft, tentative kisses before the more sure, forceful ones that send shivers down his spine. The way Derek pulls him onto his lap and squeezes his ass, how he seems to need Stiles more than he does air. It’s disgusting really, how even the thought of Derek just _loving_ Stiles makes his heart beat faster and his stomach swoop, but he’s too far gone to care anymore. He aches to know what it would feel like to have Derek press hot, wet kisses to his jaw and neck, what his hands would feel like securely on his hips, what his eyes would look like; lust blown and _open._

He imagines what sex with Derek would be like – hot and passionate no doubt, their two bodies slotting together like nothing he’s ever experienced before. He longs to know what turns Derek on; what brings him to a writhing, panting mess, and _god,_ what he looks like when he comes. That image alone has Stiles thrusting up into his fist faster, chasing that release until finally, his balls tighten and his rhythm falters, and with a moan caught in the back of his throat, he’s coming onto his stomach.

He lies there staring at the ceiling while he catches his breath. With a self-pitying sigh, he sits up to half heartily clean himself off before falling into a dreamless sleep.

~

Okay, so this whole beach trip might not have been one of Derek’s greatest ideas. As in one of his worst ideas. Ever. He thought this trip would be fun, just him, Stiles, the beautiful beach all to themselves, and maybe some making out. What? A man can dream. But although watching Stiles run around half naked, laughing and carrying on sounds exactly like how he had imagined their trip, he had most certainly _not_ imagined the three girls that he was currently doing this with. They’re two smiling brunettes, and a small but fiery redhead, who is currently sitting on top of Stiles’ shoulders, battling the other two girls who are doing the same.

Well, so long as Stiles is having fun, Derek doesn’t need to sit around and watch this, and so he gets up from the beach chair and makes his way into the house. Before he knows it, he’s reaching for his keys and wallet and calling out to Grandma that he’s going out for a bit. Derek always makes sure to let his Grandma know when he’s going out, ever since she was looking after him just after his mom and dad died and he ran away. She looks up at him from the lounge chair as he reaches the door, “what about Stiles?”

“He’s fine, he’s made some new friends on the beach.” Derek offers her a small smile before closing the door behind him. Getting in the car, Derek feels kind of guilty for just up and leaving Stiles there, but then remembers that he _so_ doesn’t need to be there if – no, more like _when_ – Stiles has sex with one (or more) of those girls.

The drive to one of the local bars isn’t long, and Derek is momentarily surprised at how busy it is, before remembering that it is almost 6 on a Friday night. He takes one of the two spare seats at the bar and orders shot after shot of Jack Daniels, keen to forget the past 24 hours.

~

It’s four o’clock in the morning before Stiles hears clumsy footsteps and keys jangling just outside the house. He startles from where he’d fallen asleep on one of the armchairs in the living room around the 2:30 mark, and lunges for the door, heart beating a frantic rhythm. He swings the door open to find a bleary eyed – and most definitely drunk – Derek.

“Oh thank god,” he throws his arms around the other man’s neck and holds him as close as humanly possible until Derek makes a small whine and pulls away abruptly to vomit over the railing. Swallowing back a sympathy-gag, Stiles pats his back until the retching has stopped, “okay, big guy. Let’s get you upstairs, okay?” and slowly begins to lead (drag) Derek up the stairs towards the main bathroom.

Once upstairs, Stiles seats Derek on a towel on the floor next to the toilet, “Derek I just have to go grab some things, okay? If you need to spew do it in the toilet, alright? I’ll be back in a minute” and with a quick pat to his hair Stiles is gone.

Either a lot of time has passed, or none at all – it’s getting difficult to tell – before Stiles returns, flushing the toilet and kneeling in front of Derek and wiping at his face with a cool cloth. Once fairly clean, Stiles uncaps a bottle of water and gives it to Derek, “Drink some of this okay? I’ll give you some aspirin too in a minute.”

After 20 minutes, 2 aspirin, and the whole bottle of water, Derek seems to have sobered up a little; his words no longer slurring and his eyes a little more clear. Standing up, Stiles offers both hands out for Derek to help himself off the floor, before slowly making their way back to Derek’s room. “No no no, don’t sit down yet, Derek, we have to get you out of those clothes.”

“No, doesn’t matter” he mumbles from where his face is currently smooshed against the pillows.

“Derek there’s vomit and at least 4 different drinks on your shirt,” Stiles simply raises an eyebrow and waits for Derek to inevitably cave, sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head, before shimmying out of his jeans as well. He scoots back up the bed until he’s sitting up against the headboard, and closes his eyes. Stiles moves to sit next to him, pulling a knee into his chest, and taking one of Derek’s hands in his own. Derek slowly opens his eyes before Stiles speaks next, his voice small, and he can feel his eyes starting to water, “what happened?”

Derek takes his hand back and turns his head away from Stiles. “Don’t act like you care.”

And wait, what? Stiles huffs out a sad laugh before he feels tears begin to slip from his eyes and roll down his cheeks, “Derek, look at me,” he puts a hand on the man’s cheek and gently turns his head. “I was so worried about you, Der. The last time you ran off like that, you-” he wipes his face on his sleeve, tries to keep his voice level, despite the lump in the back of his throat, and the cries he can feel building. “I couldn’t find you and – and you hurt yourself. And then tonight you weren’t answering your phone and I didn’t even know where to begin to look for you.”

Derek rolls his eyes and shuffles until he’s faced mostly away from Stiles. “Derek, please, just” he reaches for his arms, “just let me see your wrists. Please, Der.”

Stiles wasn’t expecting Derek to practically thrust his arms in his face and to look so _angry,_ “I didn’t cut myself, okay Stiles?” Stiles gets a quick look at the other man’s arms, seeing the silvery scars from the past, but nothing new, before he yanks them back and crosses them across his chest. “See? I'm fine. You can go back to whoever you’ve got in your room and quit acting like you give half a shit about me.”

Stiles reels back like he’s been struck, and to be honest it kind of feels like he has. “Excuse me? No. No, you don’t get to do that,” he makes a choked noise when a sob slips from his chest, and he’s overcome with the feeling of just plain _hurt._ “You don’t get to be a fucking martyr in all of this, Derek. Look at me! Derek, fucking _look at me!_ Is that what this is all about? You think that I hooked up with some girl I’ve known for a grand total of 30 minutes? You _asshole!_ I’ve been worried sick about you since the second I realised you were gone! I called my dad, Derek. Yeah, I called the _Sherriff_ back home. You know why? I was scared shitless that, that-” and that’s it, Stiles just breaks down and cries. He buries his face in his hands, trying to settle the violent sobs wracking through his body and stealing his breath. He feels sick, his body aching from crying so damn hard, but he manages to catch his breath, to regain some composure before looking into Derek’s now concerned eyes and speaking quietly; almost inaudibly. “I was asking if there’d been any suicides reported in the area.”

Stiles just folds in on himself, unsure what to do with his body, because he wants so badly to just wrap himself up in Derek, but he’s mad, he’s so goddamn _mad._ But the decision is made for him when he feels Derek’s hands on him, pulling him into his lap and wrapping his arms around him. After his sobs quiet a little, Stiles can feel Derek whispering into his hair, “I’m so sorry, Stiles. I’m so, so sorry,” over and over, as Stiles simply nods and clutches hopelessly onto Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter probably won’t be up for another week because of uni. Let me know what you liked/didnt like. All feedback welcome!! <3


	3. It’s Everything I Thought it’d Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part of this little fic (for now). Excuse all errors, as I’m exhausted but posting this now because it’s been too damn long to put it off any longer. I’m not really happy with how I ended this, but my brain has died and this was the best I could do…
> 
> Any (and all) comments or messages would be greatly appreciated!

Derek wakes slowly; his brain lagging a few steps behind the rest of him. The first thing he notices is that his mouth tastes like ass and his head is pounding. The next thing is that there is something – some _one_ – warm tucked into his side, running their fingers softly over his own, and despite his brain’s feeble pleas to not open his eyes, he slowly pries them open.

The sight he is greeted with is fairly sobering. Golden rays of the early morning sunshine are pouring in through the open window, the light painting delicately over Stiles’ pale skin.

Stiles is currently tucked up against Derek’s side, his eyes dark and sunken, a heartbreaking contrast to the soft, raw smile he’s wearing, looking down at their hands. And Jesus, Derek was a complete ass to him last night. Sure there are more than a few moments from the night that are a bit… _hazy_ , but the look of complete hurt and betrayal he saw on Stiles is burned into his eyelids, making him feel sick with guilt every time he closes his eyes.

Derek turns his hand over and intertwines their fingers, watches as Stiles stills before looking up at him and smiling softly.

Derek just sighs and whispers, “I'm so sorry. What I did last night… the way I spoke to you? Stiles I never wanted to hurt you. I never _want_ to hurt you. Ever. You… you mean the world to me, okay? I'm an ass.”

Stiles huffs out a small laugh, sits up and pats Derek’s hand, where he’s still holding his, “why don’t you go shower and then come downstairs and have something to eat.” And with that he takes his hand back and stands, leaving Derek alone in the room.

After taking the worlds coldest shower – to both clear the fog surrounding his head, and to wash off all reminders of last night – Derek makes his way downstairs, finding Stiles sitting on one of the lounge chairs on the patio, glass of juice in hand. Stiles wordlessly hands Derek his own glass when he sits in the chair beside him.

They both lay there in silence for a little while, Derek thinking he might have to be the one to break it for once, but he just doesn’t even know what to say. Eventually it is Stiles that speaks first, still staring out at the horizon, watching wave after wave crash against the shore. “Did you really think that I would hook up with one of those girls? Because I thought that by now, after everything we’ve been through, that you’d know me a little better than that.”

Derek winces at the cool tone of his words, before quickly disagreeing. He sighs and moves to sit on the edge of Stiles’ chair, taking a deep breath before he speaks.

“No, Stiles, I- god, I _do_ know you better than that, okay? I just… everything was clouded by how damn _jealous_ I was-”

“Oh fuck you, you have girls like that fawning all over you wherever you go, don’t just-” Stiles interrupts, face going pink with anger and hurt.

“No, shut up,” he cuts off Stiles, ignoring the scowl he gets in return. “I wasn’t jealous of _you_ idiot,” he pauses before looking back out at the beach, unable to look at Stiles’ face right now, “I was jealous of _them._ They- fuck.” Derek stands, takes a couple strides towards the opposite side of the patio before turning back around, “look Stiles, I was jealous of them. I saw how easily you interacted with them, and how happy and, like, _free_ you looked, and I so badly wanted to be the reason you looked like that.” He flops back down onto his own chair, hiding his face in his hands.

Stiles doesn’t speak for what could be an eternity, but when he does, it’s a quiet, “Derek”.

Derek doesn’t even bother lifting his head from his hands, just speaks through them. “Oh my god, Stiles, I'm so sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you – which I _did_ – and now I’ve ruined our friendship too. The single best thing I have. Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair before covering his face with it again, “I get if you need a couple days away from me. If you want to stay here that’s fine, I’ll do my best to give you some space, just let me know what you need, okay?”

Stiles just sighs and walks over to sit next to Derek, gently peeling one of his hands from his face, while Derek stares resolutely at the ground.

“Der” he puts his hand on Derek’s cheek and turns his head to face him, leaning their foreheads together. He hears Derek’s quick intake of breath and sees his eyes widen before speaking, “I love you.”

Stiles wasn’t expecting Derek to pull away as quickly as he does, blurting out an abrupt “what? Wait, do you mean like as best friends? Like brothers? Because – ” He’s interrupted by Stiles pressing a firm but careful kiss on his lips, pulling away before Derek even has a chance to process _what the hell has happened_.

“You’re such an idiot.” Stiles smiles before leaning back in again, and this time Derek is prepared. He is more than prepared. He is 1000% on board with this, curling his fist in Stiles’ ratty sleep t-shirt, pulling him onto his lap and kissing him sweetly, with one hand around Stiles’ waist, and the other on the back of his neck.

When Derek licks into his mouth, Stiles makes this gorgeous sound that _yes_ sends shivers down his spine and goes straight to his dick. He has one hand in Derek’s hair, fingernails raking down the back of his scalp, while his other circles Derek’s bicep. After a dozen more languid, glorious kisses, Derek pulls away and just stares at Stiles before saying, “I am _such_ an idiot.” Stiles laughs and rests his head on Derek’s shoulder and sighs, before becoming very quiet.

“Please don’t ever scare me like last night again, alright? I get that sometimes its shit, but you know you can come to me, right? I want to be the one that you come to for these sorts of things.”

Derek runs his hand up and down Stiles’ back for a moment, then pulls back just enough that Stiles lifts his head to look at him, “I promise you, Stiles, I will _always_ come to you, no matter what… I trust you.” Derek smiles at him softly, and Stiles _beams_ with happiness, knowing how big saying those words are to Derek – how for him, trust is bigger than love. Stiles throws his arms around his neck and kisses Derek as gently and carefully he knows how. In between kisses, Derek whispers against Stiles’ mouth, “I love you.”


End file.
